


pink is a bokuto colour

by ratsalad



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Rated T for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsalad/pseuds/ratsalad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo snorts, and soon he’s howling with laughter, clutching at the slide as Bokuto yells, “Ow, Kuroo, my butt!” with his hands over his backside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pink is a bokuto colour

“Why isn’t anybody coming to our gun show?” Bokuto whines, pulling himself up by the monkey bars. Kuroo follows suit, though the tips of his shoes still graze the ground.

Akaashi looks up from his book. Kuroo isn’t sure how Akaashi manages to read _anything_ while Bokuto is around and actually appreciate it. “Even if they did, Bokuto-san, I don’t think they’re going to appreciate your muscles. They _would_ be children, after all.”

Bokuto lets go of the monkey bars, landing on his feet. His eyes are bright, and Kuroo gulps in apprehension of what’s to come. “Okay, okay, I’ve got another one—”

Kuroo abruptly lowers himself by his arms, groaning, and Akaashi slides off the swing, shaking his head. “I think I’ll go home now,” he says, shoving the paperback into his jacket.

“Wait, Akaashi, please! Hear this one out.” Bokuto puts his hands on his hips, and Kuroo looks up at the sky, sending a silent prayer to whoever was listening. “Why did the bodybuilder train at the zoo?”

Nobody says anything. Kuroo knows he’s waiting for someone to ask him, that bastard. He sighs. “I don’t know, man. Why?”

“Because he wanted to get _ripped_ to shreds,” Bokuto says, flashing a grin.

“Get _out_.” Kuroo jabs Bokuto in the calf with his foot, making him lose his balance. He falls on his face at the same time that Akaashi raises his hands in surrender and heads to the gate.

“I want to say I had fun today, but…” He glances at Bokuto’s sprawl-eagled figure on the ground and sighs. “Don’t miss your train, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo nods. “See you.”

“Akaaashiiiii,” Bokuto wails as he gets to his knees. There’s grass stuck to his eyebrows, and Kuroo can’t help but smile. He watches Akaashi disappear around the corner of the street, and a dejected Bokuto picks himself up, climbs up the slide and sits on the top with his arms around his knees. Kuroo has to tear his gaze away from those arms. Jesus.

It’s pleasantly silent for a bit. Kuroo pulls himself up again, listens as cicadas hum in the dissipating evening heat, watches as dandelion fluffs float on the wind. Places like these are hard to find in Tokyo, but Bokuto happens to live very close to this old playground. It’s the kind of place Kenma would love to spend the day in. He’d asked him if he wanted to come, but Kenma wouldn’t sacrifice sleeping in on a Sunday for anything.

In Kuroo’s case, it’s the exact opposite—the Sundays he spends with Bokuto (and Akaashi when he feels like tagging along) are his reprieve from a long week of college prep classes and volleyball practice (which now feels synonymous with “dealing with Lev’s stupid ass”. Kuroo’s jaw clenches instinctively). Seeing Bokuto’s grinning face at the train station Sunday morning is something he thinks about far more often than he’d like to admit, and he wouldn’t give up any of it—his sides aching and his throat hoarse from laughing too much, too often, the smell of ice cream and popcorn and cake on his hands, the fifty-something selfies they took that he _had_ to send Tsukishima (who never replies), the little back flips his heart does in his ribcage when Bokuto smiles because of something Kuroo did. Being with Bokuto feels like he’s being swept away by strong gusts of wind that laugh delightfully in your ears, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He glances over at Bokuto’s hunched form and drops to the ground. “Wanna go grab a bite?”

“No,” Bokuto says, and Kuroo knows he’s pouting. He rolls his eyes, climbs up the slide and gives him a little shove.

He did _not_ expect Bokuto to go screaming down the slide, arms still wrapped tight around his knees.

Kuroo snorts, and soon he’s howling with laughter, clutching at the slide as Bokuto yells, “Ow, Kuroo, my _butt_!” with his hands over his backside. “Stop laughing, this isn’t funny!”

“I can’t help it, you’re so easy to take by surprise!” He plops down at the top of the slide, and continues to snigger as Bokuto darts up and sits next to him, huffing.

They’re quiet for a while, Kuroo pursing his lips to mask his smile. “You okay, Bo?” he finally manages to ask.

Bokuto doesn’t reply immediately. He glares down the slide like a hurt child, then says, “It burns.”

That’s when Kuroo absolutely loses it, and he’s sorry, he truly is, but he can’t stop laughing, and at some point of time, Bokuto joins him as well, laughing loudly like he always does, and it makes Kuroo’s heart swell. The sky grows pink and tints everything under it, and it’s a nice colour on Bokuto, Kuroo thinks. Pink is a Bokuto colour. Just like gold and white and brown are. He realises they’re sitting really close, almost squished between the railings on either side of the slide, shoulders bumping as they shake with the last dregs of laughter. He reaches out with his foot and nudges the edge of Bokuto’s shoe.

“Hey,” Kuroo says, breaking the silence. “Where are you going for university?”

“Uhm.” Bokuto fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt. “I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot, but I don’t know. I had this idea, but it’s probably really stupid, so—”

“Nah, bro. Spill.” Kuroo nudges at the shoe a bit more and it comes off, tumbling down the slide.

Bokuto clicks his tongue. He takes a deep breath and says, “What if we went to uni together?”

Kuroo looks at him, eyebrows raised.

“I—I mean,” he fumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “our coach thinks I’ll get scouted if we make it to nationals in the spring tournament, and if I do, I’m sure you can get in with your grades! Think about it, we could probably share a dorm, and we’d even be on the same team! We could conquer the _world_ , bro,” he says, clenching his fist.

Kuroo stares at him, wide-eyed, and he won’t admit it, but there’s a sort of heat growing in his chest as he watches the light dance in his eyes. Forget about gusts of wind, Bokuto is a fucking cyclone, wrapping him up and sweeping him away with his energy, his dreams, his loudness, his laughter, his _warmth_. Kuroo finally understands, he understands why his heart pounds so loudly in his chest when Bokuto ruffles his hair sometimes, why he buries his face in a pillow and grins _so hard_ whenever he calls at three in the morning. Kuroo is ridiculously in love with Bokuto and he wants to tell him, _he wants to tell him_ —

“Bro, I hate to rain on your parade, but I’m pretty sure the world would end if we conquered it.”

Kuroo wants to beat himself up.

Bokuto looks at the sky and chuckles, but Kuroo knows he’s still waiting for an answer.

“I’d do it though.”

Bokuto whips his head around, eyes filled with hope, and joy runs white-hot through Kuroo, because Bokuto’s excited about this, he wants to do this with him, _him_ of all people. “Yeah?”

Kuroo’s smiling wide now. “Yeah. Wouldn’t dream of doing it with anyone else.” He shifts in his seat a little, and his arm tingles where it brushes against Bokuto’s.

Bokuto laughs, and before Kuroo can even process how beautiful that sound is, Bokuto plants the smallest of kisses against his jaw. It’s quick and hesitant and Bokuto is red in the face, but it’s enough. Kuroo reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together.

He didn’t have to tell him anything.

They sit there, bodies pressed against each other as it gets darker, until Kuroo’s phone rings. It’s Akaashi. He covers the screen before Bokuto realises who it is and starts trying to yell into the phone. “Hey—”

“Kuroo-san, did you catch your train?”

“Oh, _shit_ —” Kuroo slides down and throws Bokuto’s shoe at him as he gets to his feet. “Bro, I gotta go, see you next week, okay?”

“Oh, man, your train—” Bokuto climbs down the other side, and hops up to Kuroo on one leg. He’s staggering, and before he can lose his balance, Kuroo wraps him in a hug. Bokuto seems surprised initially, but Kuroo can feel him smile against his shoulder as he wraps his arms around him.

It’s the longest they’ve ever hugged.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my lovely friends [sleepyakaashi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyakaashi) and helena for betaing this!
> 
> [tumblr](http://killswitchkeiji.tumblr.com)


End file.
